


"sometimes i just want to stop seeing."

by notjustmom



Series: "You remember too much..." [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dog Tags, M/M, Missing Scene, Scars, TFP - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: This scene takes place after John's rescue from the well...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a bit of canon on tumblr, which is something I have written about before, when John gives Sherlock his dog tags and Sherlock never takes them off. And then I had a flash of Sherlock after he's destroyed the coffin, and needed to write... even though I have other things I should be writing... sigh

They sat far from each other in the back of the police car, far too exhausted to speak or to move, each stared out of their own window, lost in whatever thoughts they were lost in.

"Come home with me," John whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You need a place to - I was going to say sleep, but -"

Sherlock was too tired even to snort. He simply nodded as John gave the driver his address.

"Rosie?"

"Molly. She had been watching her before - before."

"Good. She's in good hands, then. Molly's good with her."

"I'm sorry," John mumbled as he leaned against the window.

"What for?"

"Everything."

Sherlock wasn't sure precisely how to respond, so he didn't.

 

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"We're here."

"Oh. Right." Sherlock yawned and opened the car door, and somehow managed to push himself from the car and walk over to John's side. He opened the door, and offered him a hand.

"I'm fine."

Sherlock knelt down so he was at eye-level with John, finally meeting his eyes."Bollocks. Neither of us is 'fine.' You will allow me to help you out of the car and into the house, and then I am going to pour us stiff whatever you have in your flat, and then I am taking you to bed."

John blinked at him for a moment, then managed to snort. He covered his mouth, then nodded. Not sure whether he would start to laugh or weep uncontrollably, and he had no desire to do either as the driver shot an uneasy but mostly disinterested look at him."Right." He laid a trembling hand on Sherlock's back as Sherlock gently pulled him out of the car, then wrapped his arm around his waist and helped him hobble to the door. They both let out a sigh of relief as they heard the squad car leave.

"There's an extra key under the mat," John muttered.

"You know -"

"Just in case -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but retrieved the key and opened the door. He switched on the light, and took a breath, as he realised how long it had been - he almost expected Mary to - god, that was ages ago, but it wasn't. He shook his head and turned back to see John studying him. "I'm - I don't - I can get a hotel room. I'll just get a cab -"

John laid his left hand over Sherlock's chest and they both froze. "Please. Stay. You. I need - you to stay. With me. Even if it's only for tonight."

Sherlock covered John's hand with his own and nodded. He looked into John's eyes and he knew if he stayed tonight, he would never leave John's side again, but he wrapped his arm around him again and led him inside, then closed the door. He watched as John made his way to the couch and wearily dropped onto it. "I don't want a drink."

Sherlock shook his head, then took off his coat and hung it up. "Me either." He moved towards the couch as John tried to bend over to untie his shoes but couldn't. "Shhh. I - I can help, let me?"

John bit his lip and nodded, then gently placed his hand into Sherlock's hair as he knelt to remove John's shoes. "The last time I touched your hair, I thought you weren't going to make it. They told me, the odds after, I knew the odds, most people - and then - fuck - and then tonight - you - and I never told you, I couldn't even tell you then, Sherlock."

"Don't." Sherlock straightened up and glared into John's eyes, then kissed him hard, and backed away. "Sorry. I - sometimes, sometimes I just want to stop seeing, but I can't - I want you - I need you to help me from seeing everything, John. Can you - do that for me? Could we at least try, just for a few hours, can you forget, let me forget?"

John nodded and stood up, and offered Sherlock his hand and led him to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angsty bits... these boys...

"I usually sleep on the couch...." John murmured as Sherlock carefully slipped John's arms from the borrowed jacket, and tossed it to a chair. "I haven't - I don't -"

"Shh... I just need to see you, John." Sherlock's voice dropped to a place that John had never heard before; it was harsh, in pain and needed him in ways that he wasn't sure he could - his long fingers that just - what, two hours earlier were seconds away from pulling the trigger were now undoing the buttons on his shirt, and he could feel Sherlock's breath ghosting over where his skin was now exposed, finally the shirt was gone, and those fingers were teasing his trousers down to his knees, and the voice instructed, "lift your left foot - other left - there - now - god, John." Sherlock buried his face into John's neck and just breathed him for a long moment before the silent tears began to fall over him. All John could do was hold on to him as they slowly dropped onto the bed.

Sherlock opened his eyes and backed away again.

"Don't go -" John pleaded, as he sat up.

"I'm not, I won't. I just - there are things - I've never been able to explain to you - it was just never the right time. And you have to know - it was never your fault. None of it - and you may not want - you -" his voice trembled as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it over John's. John stood and with trembling fingers pushed Sherlock's away from the buttons of his skintight shirt. 

"Let me -" Sherlock nodded and his head dropped, unable to meet John's eyes. "No, whatever it is, Sherlock, it doesn't make you less than you are, you should know that, by now-" His fingers gently pushed the cloth from Sherlock's arms, and he shuddered involuntarily as he felt the edges of the scars that began on his shoulders. "How did I not - " He placed a single finger under Sherlock's chin and waited until the tear stained face lifted to meet his eyes. Sherlock said nothing but turned slowly, arms outstretched, until John could see his back, and even in the darkness, he knew the devastation that stood before him. The once perfect skin was streaked, gouged, burned and dotted, if he had time to catalogue it all, he knew he could name each weapon, and know the pain inflected on the man in front of him, the man he loved, and it took everything he had left not to scream, to lash out. Instead he watched as Sherlock began to fall to the softly carpeted floor, and he caught him gently in his arms, following him down. "I'm here, Sherlock, I'm here."

They sat in silence, John covering Sherlock's curved form with his own. There were no words John could say, he knew there were no words Sherlock could bear to hear at the moment, so he began slowly, brushing his fingertips lightly over the scars, until he felt Sherlock begin to relax the tiniest bit, breathe a bit easier under his hands, then he replaced his fingers with his lips, and Sherlock flinched at first, then reached for John's hands and held on. John curled around Sherlock, entangling legs and arms, then pressed his lips between his shoulder blades and waited. 

"I - didn't know, John. I don't know what - who I am any more - how could I have not known?" John knew Sherlock wasn't expecting an answer, he just held on tighter until he felt Sherlock shudder, then roll in his arms until they were face to face. "How can you - after - all of that - you -"

"I know who you are. You are Sherlock Holmes, the bravest, and wisest and kindest man I know. And I love you - shhh." John kissed his forehead and rested for a moment, then kissed his lips lightly, over and over again until he heard a sob escape from those lips, the lips he had longed to kiss for so long were trembling against his. "The bravest, most human human being I know, will ever know."


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Sherlock extricated himself from John, got to his feet and finished undressing. To John's ears, it felt as if the entire world took a breath, the silence was so complete; he exhaled and the world restarted once more. Sherlock helped him to his feet, and took him into his arms, and they seemed to be swaying to music only Sherlock could hear, some phantom tune perhaps, John didn't question it, he simply leaned into the man who had saved him again.

At some point, they stumbled into bed, nothing graceful, or easy about it, they ended up in an exhausted heap, too tired to sleep, and yet -

"I want to - I - just -"

John nodded and curled around him, finding his fingers once again, then burying his nose into Sherlock's curls, breathing him in, trying to find some way to tell him all he wanted - all he had to make amends for, it seemed he would never, could never - and then Sherlock pressed a kiss to his knuckles, and he understood in that one act, that he had been forgiven completely and forever, it was the last thing he remembered until he woke up with a start; Sherlock still sound asleep, his lanky arms and legs gently holding him in place, his dark curls tickling his nose. He wondered for a moment, then stopped wondering as Sherlock raised his head and smiled carefully at him.

"Morning."

"Morning," John mumbled back.

They both groaned at the knock at the door, then John got up gingerly, threw on his clothes and went to the door. Greg was there with a package, and a tray of two coffees.

"Rosie's with Mrs. H. She's at Mrs. Turner's, they said to take your time, Rosie's getting spoiled, I wouldn't worry. And this was outside your door - guessing new phones? Mind if I - I wanted to see how - ah, morning, Sherlock. Your brother is back at work."

"As expected." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Can't keep a good bureaucrat away from his desk for too long... no, it's good, where he feels safest. He'll have enough -" He stopped talking as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Did you need to ask us anything, Greg, or was this just a social call?"

Lestrade cleared his throat and looked at them. "I was worried - it was - quite - I can't even start to guess what it was like in there - just know, if you ever need anything -"

John nodded. "We know, Greg, thanks, and I'll - if you see Molly -"

"She's okay. It helped having Rosie there - she understands - that it wasn't -"

Sherlock stared into his cup and whispered, "I'll - stop by the morgue in a few days - thanks, Greg."

"Yeah." He put the box down and muttered. "I'll let myself out - you two - I'll text you if I need -" He left the flat, closing the door quietly behind him.

Sherlock finished his coffee then took John's cup from him and placed it on the table. "Come back to bed?"

John nodded. "Be there in a minute." He waited until he heard Sherlock fall back into bed, then went over to his desk and pulled out a box that had been shoved into the back of a drawer. He opened it quietly and searched until he found what he was looking for, then closed the box and dropped it into the drawer again, and walked back to the bedroom. John closed the door leaning against it as he met Sherlock's questioning gaze.

"What is it?"

"There's something I want to give to you -"

"John." Sherlock sat straight up in bed and shook his head.

"No, don't worry - it's not that - not sure I ever want to do that again. I -" He watched Sherlock's face change and shrugged. "Maybe, one day - I don't know. It's not anything to do with - no, that isn't quite true. Maybe I should just -"

Sherlock nodded and watched John undress until all he was wearing was his set of dog tags.

"John?"

John walked over to the bed and climbed in, then straddled Sherlock's legs and leaned down until their foreheads met. He took a breath, lifted the tags off and placed them over Sherlock's head, then straightened them, and pressed Sherlock's fingers over them. "This is the only thing that has any value to me, other than my daughter, and you already - I want you to know - I need you, to be my family, our family, to belong to me - no that sounds wrong - but I - you - damn. I really suck at this."

Sherlock grinned, then nodded. "Yes. You - I accept - whatever terms you are offering, John. Now, stop talking and kiss me, properly, hmmm?"


End file.
